


Checkmate

by alizziema



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame Fix-It, Avengers: Infinity War Fix-It, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Related, Canon Temporary Character Death, Civil War Fix-It, Clint is Peter's dad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker travels back in time, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slow Burn, Thanos Sucks, The Avengers (2012) Spoilers, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's a smart boi, change my mind, don't read if you're not caught up lol, just spoilers in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizziema/pseuds/alizziema
Summary: “I…I’m sorry, I don’t know if I trust this,” Sam spoke after a few moments, the group’s attention shifting towards him. “I mean, he’s a kid. Someone could’ve put this in his head.” The rest seemed to consider this, and Peter felt his face begin to blanche, his gut churning uncomfortably."I have to agree with Sam on this one,” Steve said, glancing briefly at the mentioned hero before looking over the assembled group. “Our original thought on him was ex-HYDRA, correct? We know they’re capable of heavy manipulation, and I wouldn’t put it past them to use a kid.”"I'm not!” Peter exclaimed, eyes wide with desperation. “I swear, I…"Choosing his words very carefully, the teen spoke softly, "I know what you saw in the wormhole, Mr. Stark." The Avengers almost immediately snapped to attention as soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw his mentor grow visibly tense in front of him. He swallowed, breaths trembling. "And we tried to beat it, sir, we really,reallydid, but we ran out of moves."Peter met Tony's gaze.“Now all we have left on the board is our king."orPeter goes back in time to try to fix the events of the snap, à la suite de Tony Stark.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> it's a rewrite, rewrite, gotta get down for the rewriiiite
> 
> everybody's looking forward to the chapter, chapterrr

“Hey Bruce?” 

The engineer’s soft voice drew Bruce from his thoughts, and he briefly peered up from the lines of blue text that enveloped the area in front of him, humming in question. Tony gnawed at his lip in thought, arms crossed and eyebrows creased as he looked down at the sleek floor below him. Noting the lack of a response, Bruce turned to look at his friend, eyebrows furrowing at his expression. 

“What’s wrong, Tones?” 

Air escaping his lips, the billionaire dropped his hands to his sides, one hand falling limply on the workbench in front of him. 

“What...” Tony began, hesitating as restive words danced on his tongue. “What if this isn’t enough?” 

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked, scanning Tony’s expression worriedly. “We’re creating an AI more advanced than anything we’ve dreamed about making. I don’t think there’s much more we can do.” He chuckled, though his laughter faded once he realized Tony wasn’t intending to reciprocate. 

“I know,” Tony muttered, sighing, “but what if it’s still not enough? What I saw up there, Bruce, it was...” 

“Tony…” Bruce exhaled softly, expression softening. “I get it. I really, really do, but you can’t let your anxiety consume you. There’s always gonna be what-ifs, and sometimes we need to accept that not everything is under our control.” 

“Not being in control is not exactly what I do,” Tony retorted with a small smirk. “I’m an engineer, Bruce, not an anarchist.” 

“Tony,” the scientist said, exasperated. Tony waved him off. 

“Yeah, I know. Acknowledging my feelings is important, humor is a bad coping mechanism, et cetera, et cetera.” 

The billionaire walked over to the large, glass wall situated at the front of the lab, looking over the rest of the intertwining hallways of the facility. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a breath, rocking back and forth on his feet absentmindedly. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, and you don’t have to if you don’t want,” Bruce hesitantly started after a brief pause, “but what exactly did you see up there?” 

Tony’s posture straightened ever-so-slightly, his tension restrained but noticeable. 

"Something bigger than this,” he eventually said. “Bigger than us.” 

Bruce stared at Tony, unable to think of any response to his words. He simply watched as the man continued to rock on his feet with a small frown. He wished he could help - he truly did - but he just didn’t know how. 

When his friend had approached him about the idea of Ultron, all he saw was a man trapped by his own mind - a state he knew all too well. The only reason Bruce had agreed to help him was because he knew the billionaire was stubborn, and this was going to be the only way that he would be relieved of some of his anxiety. He couldn’t stand seeing the haunted look in Tony’s eyes whenever New York was mentioned, so he really had no choice but to agree. 

But it wasn’t going to make everything better, though, and he knew that. By the way Tony was acting now, it might be safe to assume that it was making it worse, and that hurt Bruce. All he wanted was his friend to feel safe. 

Tony turned back to Bruce, sensing the discomfort in his silence, and the scientist attempted to conceal his worry in a feeble effort to minimize the billionaire’s distress. He opened his mouth to say something, but then paused, his expression crinkling into initially one of confusion, then realization. His eyes widened and he looked Bruce in the eyes, brown orbs sparkling with the gleam he always bore when he’d figured out something substantial. Bruce quickly became more alert, curious as to what the man might say next. 

“Size doesn’t matter.” 

Bruce blinked. He paused, and held back a snort. Tony cleared his throat, a red flush creeping up the back of his neck. 

“That…didn’t come out right,” the billionaire muttered, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts. “I meant to say that it doesn’t matter how strong he is, or even how strong we are. None of it matters.” 

“I’m not exactly following,” Bruce said sheepishly. 

“You said we don’t have control of the situation, right?” Tony crossed an arm across his chest and gestured to him with the other, gears turning in his head. 

“I mean, not necessarily,” the scientist hesitantly spoke. “I meant it more as advice so you didn’t - “ 

“Right, but,” Tony cut him off, “we can have control. We don’t need to worry about what happens because we can go back.” 

Looking back at the holographic lines of code in front of them, the billionaire scanned them over, the soft blue light reflecting something fiery and alive in his eyes. “We’re essentially making a brain right now, right? A fully functional, fully emotive artificial human brain. So, it’s safe to say we can equivocate parts of the brain to code and in theory they would be the exact same thing.” 

“Yeah,” Bruce responded with a curt nod. 

“So,” Tony continued, lingering on the ‘o’ for a few moments, “copying a real brain and converting it to data might not be all that difficult.” 

Holding out a hand, the philanthropist zoomed out of the code with his fingers so the two could see the full holographic structure of the unfinished Ultron, and with a few more taps he pulled up a picture of the bifrost’s rainbow beam next to it. “Einstein-Rosen bridge travel’s already a thing, and we all know what the opposite of traveling at lightspeed is.” 

Eyes widening in realization, Bruce muttered, “You can’t be implying what I think you are.” 

Tony looked back at him. “Think about it, Bruce. It isn’t as far-fetched as it seems. With the two of us putting our brains together, this could really work.” 

“I-I don’t know,” Bruce stammered, taking a step back from the table. “An artificial intelligence is one thing, but time travel?” 

“We would only use it for emergencies,” Tony added quickly, adapting a defensive tone. “Think about it - we scan a person, identify who they are, right? Then we scan their brain, transfer it into an AI, and send it back. We have a sea of arc reactors here at the ready, so energy certainly won’t be an issue. We would be able to go back and undo things just like that.” He snapped in time with his words, and his eyes lingered on his hand for a brief moment before moving back to the doctor. 

Taking a step closer to Bruce, Tony met his gaze. “This could really save our ass one day.” 

Staring at the hero, Bruce noticed something different in Tony’s eyes. There was still that weight the man always carried - those years of pent up anxiety and doubt that he left unacknowledged - but he saw something new seeping through. It was only for a split second, but the genius could’ve sworn he’d seen something lighter in his eyes. A glimmer of _hope._

Nodding, Bruce spoke softly, “If you think it’ll help, you know I’m right behind you.” A giddy smile broke out on the hero’s face, like one you would see if a parent granted their child access to the candy isle while at the grocery store. Bruce couldn’t help but reflect his smile. 

“But we have to finish Ultron first,” he continued. “I don’t think it’s possible for us alone to work on both at once.” 

Tony’s smile faded a little, but the billionaire agreed nonetheless, “Right - yeah, of course. Ultron comes first, time travel thingy afterwards.” 

He turned back to the blue light of the code, muttering something about coming up with a name to himself before taking a sip of coffee. Pulling up his section of the hologram, he turned to Bruce, flashing his signature toothy press smile before urging him, “Well, since we have an agenda, let’s hurry up and finish this bad boy. We’re almost done, anyways.” 

“Right,” Bruce smiled, shaking his head fondly as Tony quickly started to edit the code, before turning to do the same. As much as it was being dragged along, he relished in the moments where Tony felt comfortable enough to allow himself to feel happy. The billionaire barely got a break between his responsibilities with Stark Industries and his own issues with his mental health. He wasn’t oblivious to Tony’s defined dark circles and constant companion of coffee, and it killed him to see Tony fall into the same hole he had fallen down, and still sometimes found himself in. He just wished Tony would be able to open up to someone about what he saw in New York sometime soon. Whatever it was clearly haunted him, and Bruce would be lying if the thought of something larger didn’t terrify him as well. 

Maybe that’s why he agreed to work with Tony on Ultron, Bruce mused, tapping away at the lines of the code in front of him. Maybe he wanted to work on these crazy projects because he himself was concerned about the same things as his friend was, albeit not as strongly. Regardless, Tony was putting his hope into these creations, and into Bruce for allowing him to work on them with him, and he wasn’t about to let his friend down, especially not when many lives were at stake. Pausing in his work to take a small sip of tea from his cup, Bruce let out a heavy breath, his eyes meeting the softly glowing yellow stone resting on the table in front of them.He just really hoped this would work. 

**\---**

“_That up there? That’s the endgame._”


	2. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please, please, open, _please _\- ” The words spilled out of his mouth uncontrollably as the door finally opened with a soft clink. Peter went to move forwards and stumbled as his foot disintegrated underneath him. He fell halfway into the pod, chest slamming against the hard metal underneath him, and he gasped, the wind being taken from his lungs. Grunting, he started trying to push himself into the machine with his other foot, choking out a pathetic sob as it faded after the action. 
> 
> “Oh _god_,” he whimpered, tears starting to slowly roll down his cheeks. “I-I’m going to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaaa
> 
> its rewind time 2.0

“I hope they remember you.” 

Tony could barely process the titan’s words through the fiery pain that was shooting through his open wound in his abdomen. He pressed his hand tighter against it, gasping in pain from the pressure. Shifting back slightly, he stumbled his free hand onto the rock behind him and coughed wetly, grimacing as he tasted the metallic tinge of blood on his tongue. He grit his teeth as he craned his neck to gaze back upwards. A sharp ringing overtook his hearing and he collapsed to his elbow from the disorientation, his wound pulsing. _This is it_, he thought, his heart pumping wildly in his chest to make up for the blood seeping through his fingers. _I’m going to die._

Hearing the soft hum of the infinity gauntlet, Tony couldn’t repress the full-bodied flinch that followed. He looked away, wanting everything but to acknowledge the fate that had just been sealed for him, and he swallowed back the bile that was creeping its way up his throat. 

His mind immediately made its way back to the important people in his life, and he felt a sharp pang of guilt as he thought about leaving them, failing them by dying here. Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Peter - oh god, _Peter._ Tony’s blood ran cold at the thought of the young hero stumbling upon his dead body after Thanos had finished his work. Peter would blame himself for it, and he wouldn’t be around to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Maybe it would get better over time though, and the kid would handle his grief better than he did. When the kid arrived back on Earth (_If they ever arrive back on Earth_, his thoughts whispered darkly), he would still have people like May and Happy looking out for him. They would help him out. 

Out of all the ways he’d imagined going out, this wasn’t the way he expected it going. Tony imagined something bigger, more substantial and heroic, or maybe just a quiet passing in his sleep. He never associated his death with failure. Dying at the hands of an enemy never felt like it suited him, it just felt cowardly. _Well, maybe that is fitting_, Tony smiled despite himself, though he bet it looked more like a grimace. _Heroics were always more up Steve’s alley._

A part of him recoiled at the thought of the captain. He wondered if he was fighting too - that was stupid, of course he was. Steve was probably fighting some of Thanos’s cronies, hopefully successfully, alongside Bruce and Nat. Under different circumstances, he might’ve ended up fighting Thanos here, with Tony. His heart dropped at the thought. 

_Maybe…maybe I should’ve tried to make amends. Things might’ve been different if I’d just sucked it up and said I’m sorry._ He chuckled softly. _Well, it’s too late now -_

“Stop.” 

Tony’s head immediately whirled towards the source of the voice, stumbling a little from the nausea the action caused. He quickly blinked away the spots dotting his vision, his eyes eventually landing on the injured sorcerer in front of him. He tried to yell out to Strange to ask him _what the hell he was trying to do_ \- but nothing came out except for a small grunt of pain. Thanos had shifted his gaze to the man as well, and he brought the gauntlet back down to his side as he waited for an elaboration. Strange panted for a few moments, mulling over his thoughts, before looking up at the titan. 

“Spare his life,” he stressed, “and I will give you the stone.” Tony immediately tried shifting forwards, and gasping loudly at the hot, pulsating pain the movement caused. Thanos studied the sorcerer in front of him, narrowing his eyes slightly. 

“No tricks?” He asked, and Strange shook his head, his gaze falling downwards. 

“Don’t,” Tony choked out, and Strange met the billionaire’s pleading gaze, engaging him in a silent exchange of words. I have to, his eyes spoke, and Tony didn’t have the energy, nor the means to tell him otherwise. _Stubborn bastard._

The sorcerer then glanced at the sky behind them, holding a hand up as a star in the distance began to glow a pale green, intensifying as soon as Strange’s fingers captured it. With a sharp glimmer of light, the stone appeared in front of him. 

Strange gazed at the object in front of him for a few moments, eyes swimming with grief. Tony found himself pitying the man through his haze, his thoughts quickly cut off by movement in the corner of his eye that he identified as the titan urging Strange on, reminding him of what was at stake. Taking in a labored breath, the hero ripped his gaze from the scene in front of him, unable to bear it any further. 

Extending his hand, Strange let the stone float away from him and slowly make its way into the Titan’s grip, and Thanos took it, letting his fingers hover around it in the same way Strange had. The titan then took one last glance at Tony before he moved the stone over the slot on the knuckle of his thumb, letting it slip into the gauntlet. A surge of power exploded out of the metal as the stone entered it, and Tony took a shuddering breath as he heard a dull tone emanate from the titan’s form. He took a moment to look at the almost-full gauntlet, his mind shattering under the weight of an unyielding fear. 

“One more to go.” Each word was like another weight piled onto his chest, and the Titan gave a sickening smirk that made Tony want to throw up right then and there. It was disgusting. He couldn’t believe that there was someone sick enough to smile while trying to - 

_Boom!_

A bright spark of energy burned into the top of the gauntlet, and Thanos’s eyes widened in surprise. The pellets of energy continued to rain down without cease, and a loud cry echoed from the distance. The titan pressed down a finger, its corresponding stone glowing and creating a blue swirling portal behind him. He stepped back as a body jumped towards him, closing the portal as the figure shot through the spot where the titan once stood. Tony, albeit a bit slower than usual (probably from the pain, he reassured himself, his mind wandering to Peter’s jabs at his age), recognized the man as Peter Quill. Quill’s eyes widened seeing the titan disappear, and he stumbled as he landed on the ground, quickly retracting his helmet. 

“Where is he?!” He exclaimed, holding out his gun as his eyes darted around. Strange remained silent, and Tony brought his free hand over to his wound, pressing down on a button on his armor and wincing as a strong, cool stream of liquid began to seal his wound shut. 

As he scanned the scene, understanding dawned over the captain’s face, and Quill lowered his gun, his hand trembling slightly as he did so. “Did we lose?” 

Tony looked away from the man, not having the heart to respond as his gaze shifted to the sorcerer. “Why would you do that?” He muttered softly, unable to mask the sorrow in his tone. Strange stayed silent for a moment, leaving nothing but the soft pants of the three heroes to fill the empty air. 

The sorcerer eventually lifted his gaze again, staring out in the distance as he took a shuddering breath, “We’re in the endgame now.” 

Quill continued to stare for a few moments, eyes darting back and forth between the two as his mind reared to process the situation. “You gave away the time stone.” He said slowly, staring hopelessly at Strange. “Why the hell would you do that?” 

There wasn’t any fire behind the accusation, and Tony could assume the man felt just as drained as he did. Strange said nothing in response, and the billionaire mustered up the strength to sit up. 

“You said you wouldn’t,” he whispered, setting a hand on the rock to steady himself. “You promised.” 

“What’s going on? What happened?” A higher voice asked softly to his right, and Tony didn’t need to look back to identify the young hero. Peter looked around at the scene as a wounded Mantis and Drax slowly walked up behind him, his doe eyes wide and shining with worry. “Where’s Thanos?” 

Silence met the teen’s words, and he shifted uncomfortably, gaze unconsciously flitting over to his mentor. “Mr. Stark?” 

Tony said nothing. 

“I gave away the time stone,” Strange announced softly after a pregnant pause. Various protests and exclamations immediately followed his words. (“What?! Are you serious?” “But that’s the one thing we couldn’t - !” “What kind of warrior surrenders his honor?!”) The sorcerer let out a pained breath, his face twisted in an expression that made him look ten times older. 

“It was a last resort, I had no choice.” 

“Last resort?” Quill scoffed, disbelief working its way onto his face. “Last resort, are you kidding me? You gave that bastard exactly what he wanted!” 

Huffing out a small laugh, Tony shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Like you’re one to talk.” 

“Excuse me, what?” 

Tony shakily pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the spike of pain as his wound stretched. He began to get a little light-headed at the sudden change in elevation, causing him to stumble a little, but he still meet Quill’s eyes. The billionaire then shrugged cockily, crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know. This is just a thought, but maybe if you hadn’t gone all spastic about your girlfriend, we might have the gauntlet right now.” 

Peter gave Tony a short look of disapproval, and he raised his shoulders helplessly. 

The guardian stayed silent for a moment and looked down at the ground, nodding a little. Tony could sense the anger bubbling under the man’s skin as he said softly, “Okay. So that’s how we’re going to play this.” Quill walked over to Tony, stopping just in front of his face, and stared him in the eyes. 

“Listen here buddy,” Quill spat, unable to keep the venom from spilling into his voice, “I don’t know if you’re educated about the way emotions work, but that woman that he killed meant _everything_ to me.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes glossing over at the mere mention of his late girlfriend. “Gamora was the most important person in my life, and he killed her, he killed his own _daughter_, for a fucking stone. So excuse me if I lost it, Mr. I-Have-Money-Up-The-Ass, because I, unlike you, can’t buy her life back.” 

“I know,” Tony answered with a soft sincerity, and Quill blinked, taken aback by the lack of anger. “I know what it’s like to lose someone Quill, and I’m sorry. If I could bring her back I would, but I can’t, and neither can you. And I get it, the anger, the frustration, but that guy? When the entire universe is at stake?” He took a pause to take a small breath. “You’ve gotta keep your head in the game.” 

A silence passed over the group as Quill mulled over his words, and Tony waited, his eyebrows furrowing when he heard a short shifting of gravel behind him. Looking back, he noticed Peter biting his lip, and, making the connection, he rolled his eyes, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the thought. 

“Pete.” The teen deflated. 

After a few moments, Quill let out a soft breath, finally returning to Tony’s gaze. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He muttered, voice softening towards the end. “I’m sorry.” Nodding approvingly of the sincerity in his tone, Tony smiled weakly, falling silent soon after. 

“What do we do now?” Mantis softly broke the silence, her beady black eyes sparkling with underlying anxiety. “Thanos only has one stone left.” 

“We can’t do much,” Drax muttered from her side, his hand loosely clutching onto a gash on his ribs. “He left.” Peter looked helplessly between the two, fiddling with his fingers in a nervous habit of his Tony had picked up on a while back. 

“But there’s gotta be something, right? We can’t just let him leave like that,” the spiderling urged, turning back to look at the sorcerer for confirmation. “Right Mr. Strange?” 

Silence. 

Peter twitched uncomfortably. “Mr. Strange?” 

Noticing the teen’s discomfort, Quill took a small step towards Strange, voicing softly, “Hey, so, you said we won in a timeline. How’s that looking for us?” The sorcerer shifted, slowly rising to his feet. 

“It’s too early to say,” he replied, with quick, meaningful glance at Tony, “but the probabilities are slim.” 

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed at the doctor’s hint, and he glanced down slightly, the gears in his mind starting to turn once more. _Am I missing something?_ He chewed on his lip thoughtfully, the conversation occurring in the background becoming a mere afterthought as he continued to wrack his brain. 

“But they’re still there,” Quill concluded, nodding a little. “We still have a shot.” 

A soft creaking emanated from his left, and for the first time since the end of the battle, Nebula spoke, “Unless someone can think of an idea to get us back to Earth in less than a half an hour, it’s over.” She looked around, challenging the group to respond, and, to no surprise, no one entertained her with a response. 

“Thanos is gone, as is our stone,” she continued, looking over them with a grave expression. “There’s nothing left.” 

“Not quite,” Tony answered softly, still looking downwards, lips pursed in thought. Strange perked up slightly at his side, and Quill furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

Taking in a soft breath, Tony picked his eyes back up to face the rest of the group. “When Bruce and I were creating Ultron, I had an idea,” he announced. “It was a worst-case-scenario device that seemed a little redundant at the time, but we worked on it anyways. We didn’t finish it together, since he disappeared after Sokovia, but I was able to manage on my own. It isn’t exactly stable, but it works.” 

“What is it?” Peter inquired. 

“It’s a cerebral transversion device,” Tony answered with a smile. Noticing the blank looks around him his expression dropped, and he rolled his eyes, sighing heavily, “A time machine.” The group seemed to exhale a collective “Ooooh” while Peter’s eyes glittered with awe. (“Oh my god Mr. Stark, _that’s so cool…_”) 

“Will this actually work?” Quill asking, turning to Strange. 

“When there’s the option of success, there’s always the possibility of failure,” Strange stated, causing the surrounding heroes’ expressions to deflate. “However,” he continued, and everyone took hopeful breath, “the probability of success will increase if the child is the one to use it.” 

Blinking, Peter looked around slightly before pointing to himself, “Me?” The sorcerer sighed softly before nodding. Tony heart leapt to his throat. If he wasn’t on the verge of another panic attack before, he definitely was now. 

“No,” the billionaire stated tensely. Peter’s expression immediately dropped into a pout as he began to protest, “Mr. Stark - ” 

“No. Nu-uh. There’s absolutely no way I’m sending my kid alone into an unstable time machine to save the universe.” The teen crossed his arms, his expression tightening into a determined almost-glare that would’ve been believable if not for the nervous tremble of his fingers. “But you said it yourself, it’s our last resort.” 

Tony stubbornly shook his head, ignoring the teen’s outcry of frustration. “There has to be another way,” he stressed, fixating his gaze on the sorcerer next to him. “Strange, back me up here.” 

“I’m sorry Tony, but I can’t,” Strange answered apologetically, not blind to the man’s parental tendencies. “Out of all of us here, Peter would be the most discreet and would have the most flexibility with going back in time. The guardians, from what I recall, are busy protecting the stones and with a troublesome situation. I don’t think they would listen very well, either.” Various protests piped up from said guardians and Strange looked at them. “I’m not wrong.” He then refocused on the billionaire. “And you staying here with Nebula is vital for our success.” 

“Okay,” Tony responded quickly, briefly acknowledging his words as he rolled through his options. “Then why can’t you go?” 

“Because I’m the only one who can transport someone to Earth from here, and creating such a portal will kill me.” 

A pregnant moment of silence passed over the group as they stared incredulously at the man, before Tony broke the silence with a loud, “_What?_” 

“Kill you?!” Peter exclaimed, his eyes wide and darting with anxiety. The teen continued to stammer and splutter hopelessly, unable to process the man’s words, “Mr. Strange, you can’t - you don’t need - we can - ” 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Strange quickly cut Peter off, “but there is no choice, and, spoiler alert, half the universe is going to die in about five minutes. That’s our reality, and there’s no changing it now.” 

“Unless we do this,” Tony added, and Strange nodded, responding with a strong, “Exactly.” 

The hero’s gaze fell as he slipped into thought, swallowing harshly as he entertained the reality of letting Peter leave. He knew there was no choice, but a part of him was still begging to keep the teen somewhere he could see him, somewhere safe. Mentoring a superpowered teen was one thing, but sending a child on a lone mission to save the universe was something he certainly did not sign up for. (He didn’t sign up for getting immensely attached to said child, either.) In truth, Tony wanted to do nothing more than tell Strange to fuck off and hug the teen until he was sure that Thanos was long gone. He didn’t want to just sit back and allow this to happen. Looking back at the Peter, he met those shining doe eyes, and he felt his heart clench with unidentifiable but strong emotion. God, he was so _young_. 

_But you have no choice_, his mind whispered. _You have to let him go._

_You have to._

Swallowing harshly, Tony slowly made his way over to the kid, placing his hands gently on his shoulders. “Pete,” he began softly, forcing his voice to remain steady, “you know the panel I always tell you not to mess with? The one in my room?” Peter nodded. “I want you to open it up and enter the code 2E348.” He said the code slowly, studying the spiderling’s expression and waiting until he saw it relax to continue. “Then, tell FRIDAY to activate Protocol: MARIA. A door will open up in my lab and the machine will be in there. You with me so far?” 

“Yeah,” Peter responded, his voice small. Tony’s heart gave a painful tug. 

“On the front will be a panel that will tell you to enter a day, month, and a year,” he trailed off at the end, tearing his eyes away from the teen’s to think. After a brief moment, Tony continued, “Enter in October 2015. Any day that’s late in the month is fine.” 

“2015?” Peter asked incredulously, his eyes growing wide. “B-But that’s so far back!” 

“Yes, and it’s also before the accords.” Peter’s mouth snapped shut as his words, all thoughts of protest dying on his tongue. Tony knew the teen hadn’t thought of the complications the accords would cause (he hadn’t either, until just a moment ago), and he didn’t want Peter to see such a dark version of himself at face value. October was a decent amount of time after Ultron; he remembered things being peaceful. 

Peter’s eyes fell as he nodded, muttering a soft, “Right.” 

The thoughts whirling around in Peter’s head were almost visible, and Tony clenched his teeth, sensing the anxiety wafting off of the teen. Eyes shining with unshed emotion, the billionaire spoke softly, “Peter, I…I’m so sorry.” 

The teen’s head snapped up at his words, and he quickly reassured him with a strained smile, “Don’t apologize, Mr. Stark. I-I am a little scared, but we don’t have a choice. We need to stop Thanos. One sacrifice is better than billions, right?” 

Tony’s heart ached from the teen’s words, and he pulled the small form into his arms, hugging him close. _Those words shouldn’t have to come from a sixteen-year-old’s mouth_, he thought darkly. Peter let out a muffled yelp from the suddenness of the hug, body tensing and eyes widening from the intimacy of the action. Tony half expected him to pull away, but much to his relief, the teen melted into his arms soon after, wrapping his own around Tony’s chest. He tightened his grip, attempting to pour as much affection as he could into the embrace. 

This was the last chance he would get to do this, after all. 

“I believe in you kid,” the billionaire whispered into Peter’s soft curls. The teen tightened his grip around his mentor and he rested his forehead gently on his sternum. “Thank you, Tony.” Tony chuckled at the spiderling’s words, and Peter picked his head up in surprise. 

“So that’s what it took for you to call me by my name, huh?” He mused. A soft pink rose to the teen’s cheeks, and he gently pushed at Tony’s chest, pulling away from the hug with a smile. “Shut up.” 

“You know I won’t.” Tony smiled back warmly, ruffling Peter’s hair. The teen puffed up his cheeks and looked down in an attempt to hide the smile rising to his lips. 

Quill smiled at the interaction warmly, watching with a sad admiration at the closeness of the pair. His attention was drawn from the two when he felt Mantis tense behind him, and he turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Mantis? What’s up?” He asked. The alien looked up at him, black eyes shining with a tense fear, and he noticed the rest of the group turn towards them with curiosity. 

“Something’s happening,” she whispered, and Quill had barely a second to process her words before he felt her skin turn rough and patchy underneath his fingers, crumbling under the weight of his hand. He felt the blood drain from his face in horror as he watched his companion started to flake away into ashy dust in front of him, disintegrating and being swept away into the wind. Tony’s hand automatically went to grip Peter’s shoulder tightly, expression steeled, and he looked to Strange, expecting an answer. 

“He did it,” Strange said shakily, and he quickly held out his hands, swirling them around and creating an orange sparks in front of him. “Kid, get over here.” Peter didn’t respond to his words, simply staring at the spot were Mantis stood with a haunted look on his face. 

“Hurry!” The sorcerer hissed, gritting his teeth as the orange sparks arced and connected, creating a circle in front of him. The teen immediately started moving at the change of tone, pausing slightly when he felt Tony’s grip loosen on his shoulder. He turned back to face his mentor, biting his lip, before rushing over to Strange. 

“Quill,” a soft voice spoke from behind the captain, and Quill quickly turned around to lock eyes with a disintegrating Drax. He watched in stunned silence as another one of his teammates vanished in front of his eyes, and he felt his hands start to shake with building grief. 

Drawing back the remaining heroes’ attention, Strange let out a short cry of pain, opening the portal, and the familiar light of the tower’s living room shined brightly on the other side. The sorcerer’s eyes bulged with an orange glow, his veins and muscles trembling with so much strain Tony thought they were going to pop. His hands shook as he choked out a soft, “G-Go.” 

The teen swallowed harshly and turned back to Tony helplessly, tears shining in his eyes. 

Against every nerve and bone in his body, Tony looked at the kid and cried, “Peter, go!” 

Hearing a breath hitch to his right, the billionaire’s attention was brought to Quill, and he immediately tensed seeing the man’s arms start to crumble. 

“Be steady, Quill,” he choked out, his throat closing up. It felt like he couldn’t breathe. Quill met his eyes with a pained expression as the dust crawled up to his neck. “Oh man,” he whispered, before crumbling into the wind. 

With that, Peter bit his lip, deciding he truly couldn’t stick around any longer, and forced himself into the portal. 

As soon as the teen’s body disappeared, the portal closed, and Strange fell to a knee, coughing harshly and bringing a hand to his mouth. His veins continued to bulge and pulse, and he shakily brought his hand away from his mouth, now covered with crimson. Tony stared blankly at the place where Peter disappeared, a dull ache seizing his heart as the reality of his absence began to settle. His eyes started to fill with liquid, and he went to wipe them before pausing to notice Strange’s legs starting to dry and crumble. Tony froze, coming to a sickening realization as to why Strange was so ready to give up his life for the portal. 

He knew was going to die anyway. 

“Tony,” Strange gasped, breaking the billionaire out of his thoughts. He looked up at him, meeting Tony’s grief-stricken eyes and said softly, “There was no other way.” 

And he was gone. 

An unsettling silence washed over the area, and Tony stared at the spot the sorcerer had once stood for a few long moments, his brain desperately trying to process what had just happened. He swallowed harshly, staggering back slightly, and sat himself down on a rock, folding his hands in front of him and resting his head against them. Taking a few moments to control his breathing, he bit his lip, briefly wiping at his wet eyes with his wrist. 

_This is it_, he thought to himself, closing his eyes. _After this, we really have nothing_. Shoulders tensing at the realization, Tony curled in a little, scrunching his eyes shut a little tighter as he felt the familiar tightness of anxiety in his chest. A tear fell down his cheek as he finally allowed himself some vulnerability. 

_Please be safe, kid._

**\---**

Peter bolted into the tower, running through the living room and down the stairs, rushing through hallways and corridors, his legs moving faster than they ever had before. His mind was pulsing with adrenaline, and his chest was tight, his body responding to nothing but _hurry, hurry, move -_

“2E348, 2E348,” he whispered breathily to himself, turning a sharp corner and rushing to his mentor’s room. “2E348, 2E384, 2E…” 

It was unsettlingly silent. Not only in the tower, but outside as well. Normally, as a result of his enhanced hearing, he was able to hear the loud bustle of the streets below, usually filled with the honking of cars and shouts and laughs of pedestrians, but today, everything was silent. All he could hear was the loud, rhythmic pump of blood rushing through his veins. 

Reaching the panel, Peter paused, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember the code through his frenzied panic. Hands trembling, he quickly typed in the digits _2E384_, hoping that it was - 

“Access denied,” FRIDAY’s voice filtered through the ceiling, and Peter felt a sharp sting of panic hit his chest. The teen bit his lip, his breathing picking up slightly as his eyes bolted across the keyboard. He quickly typed in another version of the code, scrunching his eyes shut when he hit enter. 

“Access denied.” 

_No!_

“Access denied.” 

_Come on, please, god -_

“Access denied.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I don’t have time for this!” Peter yelled in a mixture of anxiety and anger, tearing up and hitting the edge of the console. The mental dented slightly and he froze, feeling sweat creep up his back. (_Mr. Stark probably won’t see that._) 

Taking in a shaky breath, Peter took a moment to breathe, briefly closing his eyes as he tried to recall the access code. _Think Peter, think_, he tried to urge himself, and he opened his eyes again, tensing as he slowly typed in another version of the digits. 

_2E348…?_

“Access granted.” 

Letting out a loud sigh of relief, Peter’s shoulders sagged, and he laughed softly, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Thank god,” he muttered to himself, and he momentarily rested his hands on the edges of the panel, looking up as he spoke, “FRIDAY, activate Protocol: MARIA.” 

“Protocol: MARIA, Maybe A Really Important Asset, activated. Granting access.” 

Forcing himself upright, he rushed into his mentor’s lab, his moment of triumph slowly fading to memory. Jogging inside, Peter caught sight of a door opening itself towards the back of the space, and he made his way over, stepping inside the newly opened room. The room was fairly small and empty, the only object filling the space being a pod-like machine towards the back, with small, narrow wires connected to the top of the machine and running up through the ceiling. On the front was a holographic panel with a display split into sections labeled “day,” “month,” and “year,” just as Tony had said it would. In any normal circumstance, Peter would’ve gaped a bit more and maybe freaked out because of how _cool this thing is, oh my god,_ but right now he didn’t have the time nor the energy to. 

Walking up to the panel, the teen quickly entered in what the billionaire had told him to, speaking softly as he did so. “2015, October,” he muttered softly, pausing briefly to look at the empty slot for the day. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out a date to enter. 

“21st?” He thought aloud, pausing for a moment before shrugging. “21st seems fine.” 

The spiderling lifted a hand to resume typing, and he started to move his fingers, pausing in surprise when he didn’t see anything appear on the screen. Eyebrows furrowing, he looked down at the keyboard and he froze when his eyes met nothing but empty space. Eyes quickly darting to his arm, he saw that it was slowly disintegrating, fading into the same ashy dust that the guardians had on Titan. Peter quickly tore his eyes from his arm, his chest seizing and shuddering, his head growing dizzy as bile rose up into his throat. With a sharp intake of air, he mindlessly typed in the date with his remaining trembling hand, his brain unable to process anything other than the task at hand, pressing enter just as that hand disappeared into dust. The teen choked out a slightly hysterical sob at this, and he mind began to spiral into nothing but _panic, panic, panic -_

“Please, please, open, _please _\- ” The words spilled out of his mouth uncontrollably as the door finally opened with a soft clink. Peter went to move forwards and stumbled as his foot disintegrated underneath him. He fell halfway into the pod, chest slamming against the hard metal underneath him, and he gasped, the wind being taken from his lungs. Grunting, he started trying to push himself into the machine with his other foot, choking out a pathetic sob as it faded after the action. 

“Oh _god_,” he whimpered, tears starting to slowly roll down his cheeks. “I-I’m going to die.” 

He barely registered the low hum of the machine as it powered up, and he continued trying to push himself, desperately trying to utilize his knees and shoulders. Though it was to no avail, and his distress only grew as he felt the flesh flake away and disappear after a few attempts. 

Panting heavily, Peter lay limp, his vision blurred by tears as he started to pray to himself that he would make it in time, telling himself to _hang on, just a little longer, please hang on_. (_I don’t want to go, I_ can’t _go, not yet, Mr. Stark, help me, _please - )The machine’s buzz started to grow in volume, the world around him beginning to illuminate as he felt his consciousness slowly start to fade. His lungs desperately trying to work despite his body disappearing, and he swallowed harshly, his throat raw from panic. With a shuddering sigh, his eyes unwillingly started to close and his thoughts grew fuzzy, his body no longer functioning enough to keep himself conscious. 

_I’m sorry,_ Peter thought weakly, and, with one last, painful breath, the world around him faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know, there weren't any big changes in this one
> 
> and there aren't very many in the next chapter
> 
> BUt
> 
> starting chapter 3 there will be quite a few :) i won't spoil anything but i will tell you we're gonna get some nice avengers interactions
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed this one though <3
> 
> byeeee


	3. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Damn, now I almost feel guilty for skipping school_, Peter thought grimly as he slipped on the mask and threw his backpack up into the air, webbing it to the wall of the alley. The spiderling then looked up at the wall, quickly scaling it and surfacing on top of the building. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he took in the view with a smile before taking in a deep breath and as leaping off of the edge, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he plummeted towards the ground. A few civilians gasped loudly as they spotted him falling, and he laughed softly before shooting a web at a nearby rooftop, shifting direction and propelling himself down the street. 
> 
> _Almost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys I think I'm getting sick ughh
> 
> I took a 4 hour nap today and woke up with a sore throat and I have voice lessons and a rehearsal tomorrowwww
> 
> IM STRESSING

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Peter’s face scrunched up weakly as he gradually traveled to consciousness, a soft orange glow filtering through his eyelids as they slowly opened. He felt himself squint in response to the light as his vision came into focus, and he groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead. 

_Where am I?_

Shifting his free hand outwards, the teen gently pushed himself into a sitting position, dropping his hand from his forehead to the ground to further support his weight. He sat there for a moment, mind fuzzy from unconsciousness, and he allowed his head a moment to clear before taking the time to study his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the sky was an unusual soft, misty orange - the kind of orange that reminded him of an orange creamsicle or orange sorbet - swirling and expanding out as far as the eye could see. Below him was a thin layer of still water, the only ripples being around him as a result of him moving, and it reflected the peaceful but oddly unsettling sight of the rolling orange clouds above. The water didn’t exactly feel like water, though, Peter noticed as he continued to sit there, and he gently threaded the liquid with his fingers with interest. It acted like water and it looked like water, but it wasn’t wet. There wasn’t any water soaking through his suit as he sat in the liquid; his hair wasn’t wet from lying in it; his hands weren’t saturated. He pulled a hand out of the water and rubbed his thumb against his pointer finger. It was dry. 

Peter sat there for a few more moments, pondering the science behind the water-like liquid below him when suddenly, as if a ballon had popped, memories started to rush back to him like fire expanding across a paper, falling and accelerating like a line of dominos falling one after another. He gasped audibly, thoroughly startled, his heart stammering and pounding against his ribs as he remembered what had occurred before he ended up here; Titan, Thanos, the stones, _Tony -_

The machine. 

_The machine._

Scrambling to his feet, Peter looked around with wide eyes, throat becoming dry. 

_Did I…?_

“Did you do it?” 

The teen jumped at the suddenness of the voice, a jolt of surprise rushing through his body, and his eyes darted around quickly, searching for its source. Though, as the voice - a young girl’s voice, he noted - continued to echo around him, multiplying and fading with every passing moment, he realized his attempts were futile. Swallowing harshly, Peter tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. 

Suddenly, the orange expanse didn’t remind him of creamsicles anymore. 

Continuing to look around helplessly, the echoes started to fade into nothingness, and the world around him fell into a slightly less comfortable silence. Peter took a moment to regather his bearings, taking a few deep breaths to calm his stuttering heart before mustering up the courage to ask a shaky, “Who are you?” 

His voice bounced off of the invisible walls around him and echoed in a similar manner to the girl’s voice, taking up most of the empty air, but he still strained his ears to listen for any type of response. 

Nothing. 

Bringing up a hand to grip his opposite wrist, the hero curled into himself slightly, becoming more and more nervous as the minutes of silence continued to pass. 

“Where am I?” He tried again, his voice more steady and certain than before. The teen waited for a few more moments, and, hearing nothing again, he let out a heavy sigh. 

_This isn’t good_, Peter thought to himself as his eyes continued to dart around aimlessly, his body going on high alert. Something about the situation reminded him of _A Quiet Place_, and as soon as the thought crossed his mind he berated himself, more anxiety creeping into his chest. He really wasn’t good with horror movies, or anything jumpscare-y in general, so the situation at hand was one he certainly wished he wasn’t in, or at the very least, wasn’t in alone. (Though, he did take an online quiz that said he would die first in a horror movie, so company probably wouldn’t be much help.) 

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Peter questioned, scanning the area intently. “Did you bring me here? Where are you? What is this place?” Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence again, and he clenched his jaw slightly, his body growing more tense. 

Was it just him, or was it getting hard to breathe? 

“Hello?! Anybody?!” He yelled, his legs involuntarily starting to tremble. “Who are you?! Why won’t you answer m - !” 

“What did it cost?” 

Peter froze hearing the girl’s voice once more, the words evoking a strong fear inside him for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. The words began to echo once more. 

“What do you mean? What did what cost?” The teen quickly inquired, his tone slightly panicked as the phrase continued to haunt him, the repetition lasting a bit longer than he remembered. He fell silent as the question continued to repeat, over and over again, seemingly growing louder with every moment that passed. His breathing started to pick up unwillingly as the echoes grew louder and louder, growing bigger and surrounding him, trapping him as the continued to ask that same question over and over and over again, choking him, engulfing him. 

Peter brought his hands over his ears with a cry as the voices started to pile on one another, the sheer volume of them vibrating his entire body. Everything was so _loud_ \- it was too much. The orange of the light started to grow brighter, and he slammed his eyes shut and he fell to his knees as the girl’s voice kept asking - 

“What did it cost?” 

“_What did it cost?_” 

_What did it cost?_

His thoughts began to mirror the words and they grew, infecting the very fabric of this nightmarish landscape. The ground was trembling below him, the once still water ripping and moving, slapping against his legs and splashing him. He couldn’t think - the volume was so unbelievably overwhelming that he couldn’t focus on anything else - there _wasn’t_ anything else. It was so, _so_ loud and accusatory, and he felt like he did something wrong, wrong, something was going _wrong - _

_What did it cost?_

_What did it cost?_

_What did it cost?_

Peter couldn’t think. 

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. The words themselves no longer felt like words, they were just sound; they felt like physical blocks, falling onto him and crushing him, pressing him against the ground and suffocating him like the warehouse when he fought the Vulture on Homecoming, and the dusting and grime was getting into his lungs and they burned and _hurt_. It hurt so much. 

Breaths quick and short, tears running down his cheeks and dripping into the liquid below him, the teen curled into himself and started to beg and plead for this torture to stop, _make it stop, just let it all end, I wanna to go home_, help me - and taking in as much breath as he could muster under the _pressure, crushing pressure_, he let out a loud, bloodcurdling scream, filled with agony and the wish to just _please, shut up, stop it, stop it, please, stop - _

_Crack!_

In an instant, everything went silent. 

For a while, Peter didn’t move. He stayed curled in a small ball on the ground with his hands clenched tightly into his ears, nails painfully digging into his skin (_When did that happen?_) as he let out soft, shuddering sobs, which were now audible through quiet. He waited for it to start again, knowing that it would because he couldn’t trust this space. So he continued to wait. And wait. And wait. 

Nothing. 

With great hesitance, the hero shakily uncurled from his ball, breathing ragged and uneven, and he slowly pulled his trembling hands away from his ears, tearing his fingers away from his skin like glue to paper. He stared at the ground for brief moment, ears still ringing, tense and ready to curl back up if the noise suddenly continued. After a few bated breaths Peter started to feel himself relax, adrenaline draining from his veins as he continued to soak in the silence. He rested his hands back on the ground and sat down, his gaze very slowly trailing upwards until his eyes met a sight that made his heart stop. 

Slicing through the orange mist of a sky was a large, jagged crack, piercing through the space in a way that made it look like it was glass. Inside the crack was nothing but inky darkness, and shards of sky were left floating in the middle of the space, suspended in time. Peter stared at the scene with a mixture of horror and awe as he slowly rose to his feet once more, barely aware of his movements as he spotted a small shard suspended at his height a few feet away from him. He was mesmerized by the sight, and his legs started to take himself closer to the shard, as if gravity itself was urging his body towards it to take his mind away from here, away from this place. Stopping in front of it, the teen gazed at the shard for a few hypnotizing moments, watching as it glittered and sparkled in front of him before reaching out to touch it. With every second his skin grew closer, starting at ten inches and shrinking to three inches, two inches, two centimeter, a _millimeter_, until - 

Peter awoke with a loud, shuddering gasp, and he shot up in his bed, panting heavily and body drenched in a cold sweat. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he stared in front of himself blankly, slowly gathering his bearings as his mind began to reorient itself for the second time in the past few minutes. (Was it minutes, hours? He honestly couldn’t tell.) 

“Peter! Time to get ready!” A woman’s voice shouted from elsewhere in the building, and the teen jolted suddenly, half expecting it to echo around him and - 

_Stop it_. He shook his head strongly as his chest began to tighten, as if to physically throw those thoughts out of his head. _It’s not real. It was just a dream_, the teen assured himself. 

_Right?_

“Peter?” The voice called again - it was May, he realized with a start, eyes growing wide - with a less urgency and more worry lacing the tone. 

“O-Okay!” Peter hurriedly responded, cringing as his voice cracked. 

_Ew._

Breathing now having slowed to a regular pace, Peter took a moment to look around the new space he found himself in. Lifting himself up slightly as he crossed his legs, the teen quickly realized when he bumped his head on the wooden board above him (which really hurt, by the way) that he was sitting on the bottom bunk of his bunk bed. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was in his apartment back in Queens, and he could’ve cried from the sheer amount of _relief_ the thought gave him. 

Glancing at the different Star Wars posters hung up in his room and the various papers and gadgets on his desk, Peter’s lips tugged up in a smile. He almost laughed at the normality of the space - one moment he was on an alien planet, fighting alongside Iron-Man and intergalactical space protectors, and the next he was in his room, being beckoned downstairs by his aunt to head to school. It was almost too good to be true. 

So, unsurprisingly, a small part of him didn’t believe that he was really there - not that he didn’t believe it, it was more like he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. I mean, really, how could he? For all Peter knew, the room could shatter and he could be in that weird orange place again. He softly bit his lip as the thought crossed his mind, his smile quickly fading from his face. 

The teen sighed heavily, staring at the ground for a brief pause before he suddenly slapped his cheeks and began to blink rapidly. _Snap out of it, Peter, you have work to do_, he told himself sternly. His priority was to prevent Thanos from getting the infinity stones, and if he was going to do that, he needed to stay focused. 

Lowering his hands back to his sides, Peter’s eyes slowly started to wander over to his desk, and he paused as they met the sight of his old iPhone. Quickly reaching over to grab at it, he took the small phone in his palm, eyes shining with nostalgia as his lips tugged up in small smile. _Oh iPhone 5S, how I miss your portable size_, he thought fondly. (Though he wouldn’t trade his current Starkphone for the world.) 

He quickly tapped in his passcode with furrowed eyebrows, and he started adjusting his hands, fumbling with discomfort at the smaller size of the phone. As soon as the phone opened, Peter tapped on the calendar app, stopping in his tracks as he saw a familiar red circle highlighting the number 21, which was residing in the month of October, 2015. Relief bubbled up in his chest, and a slightly hysterical laugh escaped his lips. 

“It worked,” Peter whispered softly, falling into soft laughter again soon after. He really couldn’t believe it - _it worked_. He actually traveled back in time. _We did it, Mr. Stark._

“_Peter!_” May called impatiently, emphasizing each syllable with his name, indicating that she was starting to get frustrated with him. 

“I’m coming!” The spiderling yelled back, quickly setting down his phone and rushing over to his drawers and picking out the first outfit he could find and throwing it on. While hurriedly throwing his shirt over his head, he hit the home button on his phone and gulped seeing the time written in bold letters in front of him. 

It was 7:30 am. That meant he had about five more minutes to get ready, if he cut out breakfast, and make it to school on time. Well, make it seem like he would be arriving on time. Throwing on his hoodie, Peter let a soft breath and started heading to the bathroom, wincing slightly as his foot slammed into something on the ground. Swiftly moving his foot out of the way, he looked down, breath hitching slightly as he caught sight of the object. 

It was one of his old web shooters. 

The teen smiled fondly at the object, bending down slightly to pick it up and place it on his bed, remembering when he started working on the prototypes. It seemed as if this was one of his first fully functional models, and he chuckled noticing the slightly chipped red and blue paint splattered on the metal. Spotting the other web shooter towards the front corner of his bed, Peter picked that up as well, setting it next to its other. They were cute, in a strange way, he mused as he resumed his path to the bathroom. It was refreshing to see where he started compared to where he was now. As much as he got down on himself for not being experienced enough, this reminded him that he still had some experience, and that was something he should be grateful for. 

_Though I could do without some of it_, Peter thought with a small wince, thinking back to Thanos. The hero then stepped into the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush, quickly wetting it and lathering it with toothpaste before sticking it in his mouth and picking his head up. Starting to brush his teeth, he peered in the mirror and froze in his place, catching sight of himself. 

He looked like a fucking _toddler._

Where he used to revel in his defined cheeks and somewhat-sharpened jawline were puffy, young cheeks, smooth with baby skin and free of any acne. He was significantly shorter than he remembered; instead of his face being placed towards the middle of the mirror, the bottom of it was cutting off the tip of his chin. His hair was wild with untamed, unmanaged curls (If he was going to be completely honest though, he didn’t really learn how to style his hair until he met Tony, so it was a fairly recent development), and there were no signs of the stubble he was starting to have to shave, either. His skin was smooth. Upon close inspection, he also noticed the severe lack of an Adam’s apple on his throat. Well, it wasn’t completely gone, it was just smaller. It still was pretty good though, considering he was fourte - 

Peter stopped. He was fourteen. 

Fuck, he was _fourteen_. And he was going to see the _Avengers._

Toothbrush dropping out of his mouth, he spit out some toothpaste into the sink, groaning, “The Avengers will never take me seriously like this…” 

“Peter, come on! You’re going to be late!” May shouted from downstairs. Immediately picking his head up, Peter quickly turned on the faucet, rinsing off his toothbrush before washing out his mouth. 

“Coming!” 

Walking back into his room, the hero took a swift glance at the web shooters on his bed before taking them and slipping them into his backpack, mumbling quietly, “You’ll have to do.” He then picked his head up and set his hands on his hips, exhaling softly. 

“Now for a mask,” Peter thought aloud, continuing to scan over the room before spotting a small bit of red fabric hanging off of his chair. Taking it in his hands and holding it out in front of him, the fabric unfurled into a mask shape, with eye holes cut out on one section of it. “Bingo.” 

He smiled brightly, shoving that into his backpack as well. After zipping up the bag, Peter slipped his arms through the straps, hauled it onto his back, and grabbed his phone, shoving it and his earbuds temporarily into his pocket before walking downstairs. 

“You’re getting later and later every morning Pete,” May said, not looking up from her glasses as he walked into the room, and she grabbed a small cloth from her glasses case to start cleaning one of the lenses. “I can’t keep forcing you up like this.” 

“I know May, I’m sorry. I’ll start getting quicker, I promise,” the teen assured, feeling a small pain of guilt when he spotted a small, pocket sized picture of May and Ben next to May’s purse. _It’s only been a few weeks_, he thought grimly, and bit his lip. His aunt let out a tired sigh, before pausing to look up at him, “Don’t say it, do it.” 

“Okay,” Peter voice softly, giving her a warm smile. The corner of his lips tugged down, however, as he noticed the dark circling sagging into the skin under her eyes. _She looks just like Mr. Stark did after Germany_, he realized, his heart dropping slightly in his chest as he remembered his mentor hunched over the counter of his lab, empty coffee mugs lining up along the edges of the room’s surfaces with beer bottles stashed in its corners. The man looked lost for a long time after the fight, and the sorrow in May’s eyes definitely reflected the same pain. (_Wait, when did he start comparing her with Mr. Stark…?_) 

“Alright,” May responded quietly, glancing quickly at the time on the microwave situated on the kitchen counter behind them. She then made her way over to him and softly ruffled his hair with, gazing at him with a strained smile. “Have a great day at school, okay? Make sure you get there in time for breakfast, and be safe.” Peter leaned into her touch and nodded, reveling in the comfort of her presence, and he stalled down a lump that had mysteriously made its way into his throat. 

“I will,” the teen responded in a whisper. May’s smile widened and she moved her hand down to cup his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you,” she muttered, her voice slipping dangerously towards sorrow. Peter set his hand over hers and nodded, squeezing it softly in reassurance. “I love you too, May. You have a good day too, okay?” 

His aunt chuckled softly, pulling her hand away to start walking back into the dining room. “Of course, little man. When have I ever let you down?” She joked with a wink. 

“Never, May,” Peter responded with a soft sincerity, eyes twinkling with unshed emotion as he spoke. “Never.” The seriousness didn’t last long, though, as he broke into a smile, turning around and walking to the door. “I’ll see you after school!” 

“See you later!” May smiled, watching as he opened the door and turned back to wave at her. 

“Bye!” Peter called, beaming at her. She waved back, chuckling softly. 

“Bye!” 

Closing the door behind him, Peter darted down the road, looking around at the familiar buildings around him with bright eyes. Everything looked just as he remembered it; the streets were lined with hot dog venders and people selling “I Heart NY” t-shirts alongside other keepsakes, people were rushing to work, and he even recognized some of his classmates heading to school. Cars were honking, the streets were loud and bustling, and Delmar’s sandwich shop was seated right at the corner of the block. A little past there the teen saw a small shop that was selling little Avengers figurines, and he laughed seeing a significantly shorter statue of Tony standing next to Captain America. Looking up at the wide skyscrapers and taking in the smell of pizza and venders, and hearing the sound of early morning buskers and watching the loud, roaring cars and busses in the streets, Peter couldn’t force down the wide smile that tugged at his lips. 

God, he loved this city. 

Spotting an alley in front of him, the teen peered into it, and, after identifying it was empty, he ducked into it, quickly slipping behind a dumpster and setting his backpack down. He unzipped the bag, taking out his web shooters and clasping them onto his wrists, smiling at the familiarity of the sensation. The hero then took out his makeshift mask out of his backpack (replacing it with his phone because, as he realized a while back, a phone case is certainly no match high speed swinging at high altitudes), hesitating slightly when moving to slip it on as his mind flitted back to his aunt, the picture of Ben, and the dark circles sagging under her eyes. He had forgotten how hard Ben’s death had hit her over time; he was too young to realize how much she held back from him at the time. Peter too focused on Spider-Man - he was always either designing his suit, making his web formulas, or going out on patrols - to even realize how much she was hurting. He didn’t stop to think how going out and putting himself in danger would affect her. It was different in his time - May had made more friends after she got promoted, and she started talking with Pepper and Happy - Happy especially, which was mildly concerning (?) - but in this time, everything was still fresh. And here he was, planning to put his life in danger yet again to team up with the Avengers to save the universe behind her back. 

_Damn, now I almost feel guilty for skipping school_, Peter thought grimly as he slipped on the mask and threw his backpack up into the air, webbing it to the wall of the alley. The spiderling then looked up at the wall, quickly scaling it and surfacing on top of the building. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he took in the view with a smile before taking in a deep breath and as leaping off of the edge, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he plummeted towards the ground. A few civilians gasped loudly as they spotted him falling, and he laughed softly before shooting a web at a nearby rooftop, shifting direction and propelling himself down the street. 

_Almost._

****

**\---**

Walking into the living room, Natasha let out a sigh seeing no sign of the billionaire who owned the tower she was residing in, yet again. She looked around at the part of the team that was assembled for the mission they were assigned (which was everyone, except for Tony), of whom consisted of Sam Wilson, Steve Rodgers, Wanda Maximoff and herself. 

“Where the hell is Tony?” The assassin asked, walking over to the couches where they were seated. “We have to leave in ten minutes.” 

Sam shrugged, fiddling with the settings on Redwing, who was seated on his lap. “I don’t know, the lab probably?” He guessed, moving to tap at various buttons on his goggles. 

“He said he was working on a new project of some sort,” Steve said from a chair off to the side, not taking his eyes off his shield, which the soldier was currently wiping down. Wanda pursed her lips, crossing her arms and sighing. “He needs to hurry. Fury will have our heads if he doesn’t.” 

A low hum emitted towards the back of the room as Vision phased into the area, walking over to the group. He was sporting a baby blue sweater and a pair of sweatpants that were slightly too big for him. Recently, he’d taken interest in human fashion, and with all the cleanup after Sokovia, they hadn’t had the time to go shopping for the android yet. So naturally, Tony allowed him to order a few things online, and although Natasha didn’t want to outright admit it, his antics were quite adorable. The ex-AI had come to her a few times while trying to decide what to wear, and it was amusing to watch his uncertainty and he tried to choose what to buy. (“B-But, do you really think blue compliments my color scheme? I don’t know if the vest is too bold either, it might be too much with the shirt, don’t you think?”) 

“Do you want me to fetch him for you?” Vision asked with a soft smile, looking around at the band of heroes. 

“Please?” Wanda asked sweetly, turning to look over the back of the couch at him. Vision’s expression brightened just a hair hearing her, and he nodded. 

“Of course, my lady,” he grinned, turning towards the direction of the lab before phasing back out of the room. Wanda giggled softly at his words, a light pink dusting her cheeks as she brought a hand to her mouth. 

Sam made a gagging noise from his position on the couch, and Wanda’s expression deadpanned, the pillow next to her starting to glow a suspicious red. With a flick of her wrist, she threw the pillow at the man before crossing her arms, sinking into the couch with a small puff of her cheeks. “Shut up.” 

Natasha leaned against the island in the kitchen with a small sigh, resting her hands on the edges of the countertop to rest her weight against it. Steve took quick notice of the action, and his expression softened as he noticed her tense demeanor. 

“Nat, relax. He’ll be out,” the solder smiled reassuringly. The spy nodded, meeting his eyes with an unreadable stare. “I know.” 

Steve’s expression dropped further as he noted her resignation, and he nodded a little, turning back to his shield to continue cleaning it. She knew exactly what was running through the soldier’s mind, and she despised it, albeit knowing it was somewhat true. She wasn’t going to deny it - she had been a bit more closed off after Bruce’s disappearance. To be honest, she hadn’t let her emotions slip this much in years, but it wasn’t nearly enough to completely render her immobile. Was she worried? Maybe. But she wasn’t dumb. Bruce wouldn’t want this to get in the way of her work, and Natasha wouldn’t have let it get in the way regardless. It was something she would walk off, just like she had with everything else. She wasn’t ignoring any emotions, she’d simply worked through them already. A certain super soldier didn’t seem to think so, though. 

The best way Natasha could describe Steve would be like having a dog - she loved the guy but he wouldn’t leave her alone. That man was the definition of a mother hen; he was constantly hovering over her as soon as she got quiet, and frequently bombarded her with questions about her health. It wasn’t only her either; Steve’s mother henning extended not only to the rest of the team, but to SHIELD agents and civilians as well. A part of her wondered if he was like this in the 40’s. 

If he was, she pitied the commandos. 

“So, I heard from a little birdie that the common folk were begging to be graced by my presence,” a voice rang from the side of the room, and it certainly didn’t take a genius to figure out who’s it was, “and I am here to deliver.” 

“And with only six minutes to spare,” Sam said from the couch, leaning back to watch as Tony walked into the room. 

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the billionaire. “You cut it real close this time, Stark,” she spoke lowly, and Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“Ooh, the classic last name card has been drawn. Am I in trouble?” He teased with a shit-eating grin, earning a chuckle from Sam that she quickly shot down. 

“Tony,” Steve said sternly, and the mechanic’s expression deflated. 

“Sorry.” 

“So, what were you working on in there?” Sam asked, setting Redwing down beside him as he stood up. 

“Undisclosable,” the billionaire swiftly shot down, begrudgingly elaborating when they all gave him a look. “It’s a bit more personal than my other projects.” 

Sam nodded, noting the sincerity in the man’s voice. None of the other occupants seemed to take any interest in prodding the man for any further answers either, and Tony seemed to relax at that. “So, we’re heading to where, Ukraine?” 

“Yeah, Uman,” Steve responded. “There’s a HYDRA base up there.” 

“Well, that’s a shocker,” Tony muttered sarcastically, and Steve broke into a small smile. Wanda gave the billionaire an unamused glare and rose to her feet, saying, “We’d better get going. We can talk about this on the way.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Wouldn’t want to keep the Nazi’s waiting.” 

Tony snorted. “That’s a sentence if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“Right?” 

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Steve stood up and grabbed his shield, reigning the light-hearted atmosphere in and looking around at them with the familiar militarized authority he used during all of their missions. “Alright team,” he announced. “Suit up.” 

“Roger that, Rogers,” Tony smirked. The super soldier rolled his eyes and Sam groaned loudly as the team started to move out of the room, complaining, “If this is what we’re dealing with the whole trip I’m quitting.” 

“There are people that would kill to work with me, okay?” The billionaire retorted, though it was obvious he was playing around. “Don’t be selfish.” 

“Selfish? Damn, I pity people who have such low standards.” 

“Literally.” 

Tony’s jaw dropped at Wanda’s jab, and he sputtered for a few moments before recovering, picking himself up and hurriedly rebuilding his egoistic exterior. 

“Well, at least I’m not known for being a bird.” 

“Weak.” 

“No it’s not!” 

“That one was pretty weak, Tony.” 

“Yeah, Stark. Looks like I caught you off guard.” 

“You didn’t. It’s a perfectly good quip. Birds are filthy and they shit everywhere. It’s an insult.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Whatever you say, buddy.” 

The heroes fell into a series of quips and retorts as they made their way to the ramp the new Quinjet was residing on, and Steve paused, noticing that Natasha was still by the island, staring down at the ground with her arms crossed. He stopped to look back at her, and gave her a soft smile. 

“Come on, Nat,” he encouraged, and the spy blinked, looking up and meeting his twinkling eyes. The playful banter of the team had faded into the background as Natasha continued to stare at him, before deciding to allow a small smile to slip onto her face. 

“Right.” 

**\---**

Landing softly on a rooftop next to the famed Avengers tower, Peter looked up, scanning the skyscraper closely. Although he wasn’t the most familiar with the building, he had been there more than the average person, having wandered over occasionally if he needed Tony to repair or tweak his suit. He knew his way around the upper floors of the tower, which consisted of the ex-Avenger’s living and training rooms, and Tony’s labs. He also knew about Tony’s private entrance that he entered through when he used the suit, which, if he was correct, should be right over... 

_Bingo._

Shifting slightly to the right, Peter spotted a balcony extending off of the tower. He smiled brightly, jumping to the building next to him to get a better view. _Okay, so the private entrance is on that balcony_, he thought, crossing his arms in thought. _And there’s an entry code, which I think was...uh…_

_Wait, what was it again?_

The hero’s musings were interrupted by a loud _whoosh_ overhead, and a large gust of wind slammed into him, causing him to stumble back slightly. Eyes widening with surprise, Peter looked up to see the source of the noise, which happened to be none other than the Avenger’s own Quinjet. The teen’s eyes widened as he watched it fly off at an incredible speed into the distance, a bright spark of excitement and awe erupting in his chest as a smile tugged at his lips. 

“Awesome,” he breathed, gaze lingering on the jet for a few more moments before shifting back to the tower. The Avengers not being present made his job a lot easier, and he quietly thanked his Parker luck for not disappointing him before dropping down onto the ground and slowly making his way over to the side of the tower. Making quiet, careful footsteps, he slipped behind a tree about halfway to the edge of the building to determine where he should move next. As he scanned the ground, he noticed a familiar-looking bodyguard standing at the front entrance of the tower, his face slightly more youthful and hair a bit more full than the last time he saw him. Peter laughed softly, smiling at the man. 

“Nice to see you again, Happy,” he joked softly. He could only begin to imagine what the man would say if he the situation he put himself in now. _Well, he’d probably start by yelling at me_, Peter snickered with a small grin. 

After a small pause, the teen very carefully started making his way to the side of the building, eyes constantly darting around to make sure no one had spotted him. Finally feeling sure that he was safe to move, the spiderling set his hands on the side of the building and started to scale up the side. The climb was fairly easy, aside from a few close calls with some security cameras (“H-Holy _fuck!_ When did you get there?!”) which was surprising since it was the Avengers headquarters. _I guess they weren’t prepared for someone like me_, Peter thought, allowing himself a slightly arrogant smirk. After about five minutes of climbing, he made his way up onto the balcony, kicking his feet over and landing on the platform with ease. 

“Okay,” Peter exhaled, “now all that’s left is to get in.” With a quick scan of the area, the teen swiftly spotted a panel plastered on the wall of the tower. He moved over to it to take a closer look, and upon closer inspection, he realized its purpose was not to receive any type of password through writing, but through one’s voice. 

“Uh,” the teen looked at the panel dumbly, brain kicking into gear as he started racking his brain for the password. He didn’t think his mentor had ever mentioned the password to this specific entrance before, which was quite a hindrance. _I guess I just have to guess_, he thought, smirking a little at the wordplay. _Guess I have to guess. Guess to guess._

_God, I’m such a loser._

“Um...Tony Stark?” Peter hesitantly asked, almost entirely sure that it was incorrect. 

“Access denied.” 

“Thought so,” he muttered, before letting out a sigh. “Pepper Potts?” 

“Access denied.” Peter’s mouth ran dry. This wasn’t happening - not again. 

“Happy Hogan?” 

“Access denied.” 

“James Rhodes?” 

“Access denied.” 

Steadily paling with every guess, the teen stared at the panel dumbly, only one thought emerging in his head. 

_This is going to suck._

**\---**

_This sucks_, Peter thought to himself, lying face down on the hard concrete of the balcony, every ounce of excitement he once felt now replaced with a horrible hopelessness as he continued to guess his mentor’s _stupid_ password. 

“The best Avenger?” 

“Access denied.” 

“Nick Fury.” 

“Access denied.” 

“Genius dude?” 

“Access denied.” 

_Yeah, that last one was a bit of a stretch_, he winced, rolling onto his stomach as he looked up at the dreaded blue panel, eyes narrowing as he spoke, “Howard Stark.” 

“Access denied.” 

“Oh, come on!” He fumed, jumping to his feet as his frustration started to bubble over. “Can’t you just tell me?!” There was no response from FRIDAY, of course, and the teen let out a breath, forcing himself to reign in his anger. 

_This is no time to freak out_, he told himself. _Come on Peter, think like Tony Stark. What would you use as your password?_

The hero fell silent as he started to think, racking his brain to try to remember any indication his mentor might have slipped to him as to what his password would be. He stayed silent for a few more moments and suddenly jerked, blinking as an unlikely memory of the two tinkering in his lab came to mind. 

_Didn’t he mention…? But he wouldn’t use that, no way_, he quickly shot down, shaking his head. But, taking a second look at the panel, Peter paused, biting his lip in a show of indecisiveness. _It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?_

Cringing a little in advance, Peter turned to face the panel and cleared his throat, hesitantly speaking, “War Machine rocks?” 

“Access denied.” 

The teen let out a loud groan, bringing his hands to his temples as frustration bubbled back up in his chest. “Come on!” He complained loudly, his voice coming out in more of an embarrassing whine than a growl of anger. Heaving a large breath, Peter began to guess at a rapid speed, now at a point mentally where he was so worked up that he felt eerily calm. 

“War Machine sucks.” 

“Access denied.” 

“Iron Patriot sucks.” 

“With a ‘cks’ or an ‘x’?” 

Peter immediately froze, slowly looking up and staring at the panel with disbelief. 

_Holy shit_. This was it. 

The teen’s heart beat rapidly in his chest and he continued to stare blankly at the panel, brain trying desperately to reboot. After a few moments, he blinked rapidly, his thoughts finally starting to process and make their way to his waking consciousness. 

“Um,” he started, audibly gulping as his heart thrummed rapidly. “x?” 

“Access granted.” 

A tidal wave of relief rushed over the teen as the words were spoken, and a stupid grin formed on his face and he watched the door open. The sheer amount of joy the action caused was unprecedented. _Thank the Asgardian gods above_, Peter thought as he slowly walked inside the tower, the familiar white walls around his still seeming surreal. _Thank you for showing mercy_. Giddy laughter bubbled up in his chest as the doors closed behind him, and he paused, blinking a little as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the tower. 

Peter began to look over his surroundings and he paused as his eyes met a window, his smile quickly fading as he noticed how low the sun way in the sky. It was about three quarters of the way across the sky, meaning it wasn’t going to be dark for a little while, but school was most likely out. He could probably put it off as marching band running late or something, but May was still going to kill him for not giving her a call. Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly do that now, as his phone was still in his backpack in Queens, and he definitely wasn’t willing to leave the tower so soon after getting in. 

Another sharp realization hit him as he remembered that the Avengers weren’t currently there. They had left in the Quinjet earlier that day, on what he could only assume was a mission, and the teen deflated as he realized he probably wouldn’t be able to talk to them for a while. _I guess I could head back to Queens, since I figured out the password_, he thought with a sigh, his lips forming into a pout as he crossed his arms. _Though I might be able to contact Nick Fury through the tower. He could probably help, right?_ Thinking back to the pictures he’d seen of the well-known organizer of the Avengers, he gulped slightly picturing the man’s dead stare. _But the real question is, do I have the balls to talk to him?_

Before Peter could answer his own question, a loud _crunch_ echoed out from another room in the tower, and the hero’s ears perked up as he tensed, eyes darting around. _Is there someone else in here?_

Quickly moving to a wall, Peter pressed his back to it, tensing as another loud _crunch_ rang through the hall. The teen bit his lip as he slowly started to move towards the noise, silent cursing himself for his own curiosity as his body and mind screamed at him to run away, _leave, go!_ But what kind of hero would he be if he ran away? Who knows what this other person was doing here - they could’ve broken in to actually cause harm, unlike himself. If so, then he really couldn’t let this slide (not to mention it would probably gain him brownie points with the Avengers). 

As he continued to move, the crunches started to grow nearer and louder, and he fought to keep his breathing steady. Pausing at a corner, another _crunch_ filled the air, the sound clearly emanating from the room around the corner. Peter’s heart jumped to his throat as he rested his head against the wall, mouthing soft reassurances to himself as the nervousness grew tenfold. (_Come on Peter, you can do this, you’re _Spider-Man,_ just go for it!_) 

Taking in a deep breath, Peter shot out from behind the corner, body in full view as he took in the source of the crunching, the sight making him instantly regret every decision he had made in his life thus far. 

In front of him was none other than Hawkeye, donned in full costume with his bow and quiver attached tightly to his back, holding a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips in his hands. The man froze seeing Peter, about to take another bite, and the two stared at one another, basked in a very uncomfortable and awkward silence as they both tried to process the situation at hand. 

The teen continued to stare as his mind raced with unwanted thoughts (_Holy mother of all things living that is Hawkeye - oh _god,_ what do I do, I wasn’t prepared for this - _), and he swallowed harshly, mouth drying as he tried to fill the silence with the first excuse that came to mind. 

“Uh.” His voice wavered as he continued to dumbly stare at the Avenger in front of him. “I didn’t break in on purpose?” 

_Crunch._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohoh what a cliffhanger 
> 
> im excited to post the next chapter lol i made quite a few changes that I'm very happy with :)
> 
> see y'all in the next one!


	4. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I-I’m into drugs and stuff!” He exclaimed far too enthusiastically, words tumbling out of his mouth as soon as they crossed his mind. “I’m totally, one hundred percent high right now.” The man paused in his counting at this, taking his words into consideration. 
> 
> “FRIDAY, do a quick physical scan on the kid and search for symptoms of drug usage,” Clint humored him, not taking his eyes off of Peter as the AI began to speak. 
> 
> “The results of the scan are as follows: target is male, has a height of five feet and six inches, weighs approximately 120 pounds, and ages within the range of eleven to fourteen. Target shows no physical evidence of the usage of any drug and appears to be in peak physical health.” 
> 
> The Avenger raised an eyebrow at this, causing Peter to gulp. 
> 
> “I do football...at school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im editing this while showing my mom interstellar for the first time because the movie stresses me out lol
> 
> also im still sick rip
> 
> enjoy the chapter!

“It was an accident, I swear - I’m not here to hurt anybody, Mr. Hawkeye, please put your bow down,” Peter babbled frantically, hands held out defensively at his front, legs trembling under the gleam of the metal arrow tip situated just a mere foot in front of his face. He honestly wasn’t sure how he got into such a precarious situation - the man was only holding a bag of chips a moment ago. When did he have time to knock an arrow? 

“An accident, huh? Then tell me how you managed to accidentally stumble into one of the world’s most secure buildings armed with defense systems created by the smartest man in the country,” Clint retorted, a small bite to his tone. As an afterthought, he swiftly added, “Don’t tell Tony I said that, by the way.” 

“Uh, well,” the teen stammered, “shit happens, y’know? Life just pops in every now and then and makes things complicated. Like, this mask? Total desperation.” 

“Right,” the archer said dryly. “Well, if you don’t give me one good reason why I shouldn’t believe you’re here to steal shit in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to shoot.” 

“Wait, what?” Peter guffawed, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Thirty…twenty-nine…” 

_Oh shit._

“U-Uh, um, I-I’m a kid! I’m like, twelve,” he shakily managed out, adrenaline shooting through his body with a vengeance. Clint didn’t waver in the slightest, however, the counting continuing. 

“Twenty seven...twenty six...twenty five...” 

“And-and I’m into drugs and stuff!” He exclaimed far too enthusiastically, words tumbling out of his mouth as soon as they crossed his mind. “I’m totally, one hundred percent high right now.” The man paused in his counting at this, taking his words into consideration. 

“FRIDAY, do a quick physical scan on the kid and search for symptoms of drug usage,” Clint humored him, not taking his eyes off of Peter as the AI began to speak. 

“The results of the scan are as follows: target is male, has a height of five feet and six inches, weighs approximately 120 pounds, and ages within the range of eleven to fourteen. Target shows no physical evidence of the usage of any drug and appears to be in peak physical health.” 

The Avenger raised an eyebrow at this, causing Peter to gulp. 

“I do football...at school.” 

“Kid,” Clint sighed, releasing his pull on the bowstring slightly and dropping the bow to his side. “If you’re going to spend your time breaking and entering you need to get better at handling pressure because this is a train wreck. I’m embarrassed for you.” 

“Yeah,” the teen chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “So, uh, are you still gonna shoot me?” 

Clint snorted. “Believe it or not, I have morals, kid. I wasn’t going to shoot you to begin with.” 

“Oh.” Well, now he felt stupid. Face slowly starting to flush, Peter watched as the archer set his bow down on the counter, picking up his bag of chips once more, resuming the consumption of the snack. 

“I do need to know why you’re here, though,” he said through a mouthful of morsels. “Why’d you decide to pop in?” 

“It was actually because I needed to talk to you about something,” Peter responded softly. “Well, I need to talk with all of the Avengers but I’m guessing you’re all not here, so...” 

“Hm.” The archer studied him. “What about?” 

“The infinity stones.” 

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Peter saw the archer’s demeanor change. His body suddenly froze, so tense it could be mistaken for concrete, and he at looked the teen with a gaze just as piercing, if not more than the arrow situated in his bow. 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” The man asked quietly. Peter bit his lip. 

“I-I said I wanted to speak with you and the Avengers about the infinity stones, sir,” he responded nervously. 

Clint nodded after a brief moment, turning back slightly to set his bag of chips down. He then raised a hand to his ear and, as a result of his enhanced hearing, he heard the archer mutter softly, “Report back to the tower immediately, we have a breach of security.” 

Peter swallowed harshly, beginning to pale. “Hey man, I really don’t want to start anything, I’m just trying to he - “ 

Without warning, his spidey sense rang like alarm bells in his mind and the hero jumped to the side instinctively, narrowly dodging a small, sharp object that planted itself into the wall behind him. He turned back briefly to get a closer look at the object, and it appeared to be some sort of needle, containing a clear liquid inside of the casing. _A tranquilizer_, he thought, biting his lip. 

“Come on, can’t we talk this out? The pen is sharper than the sword, you know,” He spoke, taking a step back. 

“Really? I guess the curriculum must’ve changed, because I always remember hearing that actions speak louder than words.” 

Rushing forwards, the hero raised a fist and threw it at him, the speed of the movements whipping the air around him. Peter parried the movement, blocking the blow and holding his arms up in front of his chest. He noticed the archer’s eyes widen ever so slightly in response to his movements, but the window of hesitation was shut down almost immediately afterwards. The man quickly followed up with a swift series of punches and jabs, slowly driving Peter closer and closer to the wall. He was barely avoiding any of the attacks, being used to long-distance combat. 

Making a split-second decision, Peter ducked underneath a punch and propelled himself up onto the wall, quickly crawling to the side to create some space between him and the archer. Witnessing the gravity-defying act, Clint’s jaw dropped. 

“What the _fu - _“ 

“Think fast!” Webbing up the nearest heavy object, which in this case was a dining room chair, he flung it towards the hero, who dodged away just in time for it to noisily _crash_ into the kitchen counter. 

Peter then shot off the wall, taking advantage of Clint’s momentary disorientation, and he threw a punch towards the archer’s face. However, he forgot to account for the fact that such a maneuver left his chest wide open - he really needed to pay more attention to Tony’s lessons - and the man took full advantage of it, tackling him and slamming him against the wall. The teen coughed, breath escaping his lungs. 

The Avenger then reached behind him and grabbed a metal arrow from his quiver and held it against Peter’s throat, slipping behind him when he attempted escape and securing him in the hold. 

“Nice weather we’re having, huh?” The teen shakily joked with a small smile, earning a laugh from the archer. Something shuffled behind him as the man began to rummage with some things, causing some blood to drain from Peter’s face. 

“You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Clint asked with a smirk. 

“You don’t know the half of it, though I’m sure you’re going to try to once you tranq me,” Peter responded with a sigh of defeat. He had stopped struggling at that point, opting to simply lay limp in the man’s hold as he did whatever needed to be done. 

“Got that one right.” Feeling the cold press of something sharp against his neck, Peter instinctively tensed, swallowing harshly. Clint raised an eyebrow. “You really just gonna let me go through with this?” 

“I told you, I’m not here to fight,” the teen muttered. “I want to talk, and if letting you drug me makes it easier, then so be it.” 

The archer seemed to recoil slightly at this, taken aback by Peter’s words. Peter didn’t blame him, the whole situation was pretty precarious. If he were in Clint’s position, he’d be wondering who the hell hurt the kid in front of him to be talking about a kidnapping like it’s nothing. 

“For the record, I am sorry about this,” Clint said. Feeling a soft pinch in his neck, the teen’s eyelids began to grow heavy, a sudden drowsiness overtaking his form. 

“It’s alright…’s nap time...’nyway...” 

Peter’s eyes closed, and everything went black. 

**—-**

Slowly coming to, Peter let out a soft groan, his head muffled, like it had been filled with cotton. He scrunched his face up in displeasure from the sensation and slowly opened his eyes. The teen squinted, his eyes adjusting to the apparent brightness of the room he was in. _Where am I?_ He thought slowly, picking his head up as his vision started to focus. _What happ - _

Cutting his thoughts off, a stampede of memories emerged from the depths of his mind, flashes of kicks, punches, and the crash of a chair filling his mind. 

_Oh._

Right. He was kidnapped by Hawkeye. 

Shifting slightly in the chair he was sitting on, Peter took note of the way his arms were wrapped around its back, and he tugged at his wrists, feeling the touch of cool metal against his skin. The spiderling looked down to see cuffs binding his wrists to the chair, and he bit his lip, pushing up against the metal to test its strength. With little effort, the metal bent, and he smiled before relaxing his wrists again. Even though he could easily break out, he wasn’t dumb. Leaving would be pretty counterproductive after all, considering he went there to talk to his captors in the first place. 

Peter then took note of the room around him, coming to the conclusion that he was in a holding cell of some sort. The walls were made of a smooth gray stone with nothing etched onto them or cut into them, nor any windows. He spotted a camera in an upper corner of the room with thin lines of wiring crawling into the ceiling, evidence that a speaker system was built into the stone behind it. It was probably safe to assume that the Avengers were watching him, and he would be lying if that fact didn’t make him a little nervous. 

After a few brief moments of empty silence, Peter heard the soft click of a door behind him. The teen tensed and craned his neck behind him only to see none other than the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, and the Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff, step inside the room. He gulped, watching as the two made their way to his front, quickly averting his gaze as Natasha met his eyes. The feeling of her gaze still remained, however, and he tried hard to calm the nerves threatening to enter his sternum. 

Although he was on their side and wasn’t planning on lying to them, he still was scared as hell (and possibly a bit excited by the fact that he was going to be talking to his heroes - but just a little bit. He wasn’t like, fanboying or something. For real - _he wasn’t_). Peter was going to be interrogated by the _Black Widow_. The amount of horror stories he’d heard from Tony about HYDRA agents getting stuck in interrogation with Natasha and not ever coming back out were enough to instill some sort of primal fear of the woman in him. 

Eyes narrowing and slowly scanning over his small form, Natasha crossed her arms. “Middle school?” She suddenly spoke, causing his head to snap up in her direction. “Freshman?” 

“E-Eighth grade,” Peter barely choked out, his chest constricting under the weight of her stare. Natasha nodded at his words, seemingly coming to a conclusion as she leaned back, eyes no longer boring into him. 

“Alright. So you’re fourteen then,” she responded, and he didn’t think he needed to confirm her guess for her to know she was right. Staring him in the eyes with a cold, barren stare, the spy continued, “And you snuck in here in your own. That’s a pretty impressive feat for someone so young. You definitely have some perseverance.” 

_Oh god, did they watch the whole thing?_ Peter’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the comment, and he cringed internally, thinking back to his small bursts of frustration throughout. _That’s so embarrassing._

“I told Mr. Hawkeye that I have nothing to hide, and I still stand by it,” The teen responded, forcing his rising blush down and managing to keep any wavering out of his tone. Natasha’s lips twitched upwards in a hint of amusement. 

“Then I guess that’ll make my job a lot easier.” She walked a few paces closer to him and look him in the eyes. “This is how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, you’re going to respond, and Wanda,” she gestured towards the witch, “is going to confirm your words. If you lie or refuse to answer, she’ll know anyways, so I suggest you say it yourself.” Peter nodded, body tensing hearing the masked threat. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a tense smile. 

With his words, Wanda’s eyes lit a bright red, causing Peter to tense slightly. The spy crouched down slightly, meeting him at eye level. “What’s your name?” 

“P-Peter Parker, miss.” 

“True,” Wanda muttered, focused intently on the teen. 

“Where are you from?” 

“Here,” Peter spoke, swallowing as he tried to remember to be specific. “Queens.” 

The entire situation made him quite uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to trusting his kidnappers with information about himself - and he’s had quite a few - and it took nearly all of his willpower to bite back the usual snarky remarks he would let slip otherwise. And sure, he trusted the Avengers with information on Thanos, but he wasn’t so comfortable with them knowing details about his identity and personal life. What if they recorded it and one of their enemies managed to get it? What if he couldn’t prevent the Civil War and one of them took advantage of the knowledge? There were too many possibilities, and Peter wasn’t willing to leave it up to chance. 

“True.” 

“Hm,” Natasha nodded to herself. “What school do you attend?” 

“Midtown H-Middle.” The teen flushed as he stumbled over his words, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen Wanda let a small smirk slip in amusement. 

“True.” 

“A magnet school. You must be pretty smart, huh?” The assassin asked, and Peter shrugged. 

“Smart enough to know you’re placating me,” he said in a small burst of confidence, though the look he got in response caused him to recoil slightly. The teen cleared his throat slightly, and continued a bit softer, “I told you I’d talk.” 

“So you’ll talk about the infinity stones but not your personal life?” Natasha questioned, a small bite to her tone. Peter flinched. 

“Force of habit,” he muttered, throat dry. 

“A strange habit to have,” the spy responded. “Care to elaborate?” 

“Um...” The teen fell silent, squirming in his seat uncomfortably. He knew he needed to tell them, he did, but the words just wouldn’t come out. How was he even supposed to begin? He wasn’t gonna just be like, ‘_Oh yeah, well y’see Miss Black Widow ma’am, I’m a vigilante/recently-appointed-Avenger from the future here to talk to you about preventing the death of half of the universe, but I’m really concerned about the safety of my Aunt and my identity is normally secret so this is strange for me. I’ll talk to my therapist about it, don’t worry - get back to me in a week and I’ll probably be good. Sorry for the inconvenience._’ 

A sudden chuckle broke him from his thoughts, and the vigilante’s head snapped up to see Wanda covering her mouth with a hand, a red hue fading from her eyes. Natasha had moved over to where the witch was standing, most likely having asked her to Peter felt himself freeze in realization, and he hung his head in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. 

“Well, I guess that was one way to do it,” the teen muttered to himself. 

“I wouldn’t be so embarrassed. Your thoughts are quite entertaining,” Wanda said, accent twinkling. 

“What did you hear?” Natasha asked, looking between the two with an intrigued gaze. 

“Ah, well,” the witch started, smile dropping from her face. “Aside from the jokes, he mentioned quite a few interesting things. He’s allegedly a vigilante and an Avenger, and he doesn’t like being questioned about his personal life because he’s afraid someone will hurt his family. He also claims to have traveled back in time.” 

To his surprise, Natasha didn’t appear to be fazed in the slightest by the onslaught of information - and if she was, she didn’t show it. She instead crossed her arms in front of her chest, narrowing her eyebrows in thought, and muttered, “Time travel, huh? That’s new.” 

After a few moment of deliberation, the spy turned to Wanda, unclasping her arms. “Tap his memories. If he’s telling the truth, then he’d remember how he got to the past.” 

Wanda’s eyes shifted to red once more, and Natasha turned to Peter, scanning his expression as her teammate searched his memories. The teen met her with an equally strong stare, showing no visible discomfort with the situation (even though he was pretty uncomfortable with the thought of someone searching his mind) to assure the assassin that he was, in fact, telling the truth. He knew she was searching for a break in his assumed façade, a sign to show he was about to crack and tell the “real” story, and he wasn’t about to give her the wrong idea. _Though I guess it doesn’t matter because it’s about to be confirmed anyways._

“...true,” Wanda spoke as her eyes dimmed, voice trembling and disbelief lacing her tone. Her face was filled with a mixture of surprise and horror, and she lifted her hands to her mouth, clearly shaken by what she saw. Natasha’s expression dropped, taken so off guard by the statement that she allowed a bit of shock to slip through her mask. The two looked at each other in stunned silence, both unsure of what to do with the information they obtained, and Peter took this as an opportunity to speak. 

“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” the hero said, looking at the pair. “I’m here to ask for your help. The situation in the future is really bad, and I had to come here or else...” Peter swallowed harshly, not having the gut to finish the sentence. “If it helps any, Tony knows what I’m talking about, just - please, you _have_ to listen to me.” 

Natasha let out a sharp exhale following his words, her gaze dropping to the ground, and the spiderling watched her tensely, feeling uncannily similar to how he did when Tony spoke to him after the ferry incident. The deafening silence that settled between them as his mentor decided whether or not to take his suit oddly matched the atmosphere that surrounded the three now, and he tensed in his seat. All he wanted was for her to believe him - no, scratch that - he _needed_ her to believe him. If she didn’t, everything they’d done to fight against Thanos would be in vain. Wanda seemed to pick up his anxiety, and her eyes gave a brief flicker of sympathy before focusing back on Natasha, who had picked her head back up. 

“What year did you come from?” The spy asked softly, her tone surprising Peter slightly. 

“2018,” he responded breathily, exhaling the air he didn’t know he was holding. “Late 2018.” 

“True,” Wanda muttered. 

Natasha sighed. “So you’re sixteen.” 

“Mentally, but yes,” Peter nodded. She fell silent, unreadable eyes silently scanning over his bound form, mind whirling as she tried to come to a decision about the situation. The teen watched her with bated breath, heart thrumming rhythmically against his ribcage. 

“…alright, I’ll bite,” the spy eventually responded. Peter’s heart leapt into his chest, and his eyes widened, glittering with hope. Did she believe him? “What exactly do you need our help with?” 

The teen opened his mouth to respond before pausing, thinking his next words over carefully. After mulling over it for a brief moment, he responded softly, “That’s a loaded question.” He chuckled. “I’ll tell you everything - I _want_ to tell you everything, that’s why I’m here - but I think everyone should be here to hear it.” Hearing no immediate response, Peter bit his lip, and he hesitantly added, “A-And I don’t really want to be cuffed to a chair. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Natasha responded, looking up at the ceiling. “And those terms are acceptable. Steve?” A soft crackling emanated from the ceiling as a tenor voice came through, ringing through the open space of the cell. 

“Copied,” the familiar voice of Captain America answered. “We’re heading down now.” 

With a small crackle, the soldier’s voice faded, and the room fell into a silence once more. Peter watched as the super spy turned her back to him and looked towards the floor, mulling over the events that had just occurred. From what he’d gathered, the Avengers weren’t expecting this interrogation to be anything special or ground-breaking. They’d assumed that he was just a regular kid doing something stupid for attention. Peter understood the weight of the information he’d just shed, though, and he was aware of how shaken up the group of heroes may very well be. Time travel was something that wasn’t thought possible until the day he came back in time, so their surprise was definitely understandable. And if he knew anything from his experiences with Tony, trying to get through to a nervous superhero was a very difficult task. 

_I just hope this works out_, the teen thought, letting out a soft breath. There was a lot of risk and uncertainty that came with what he was trying to accomplish. What would happen if they weren’t able to regather the stones? What would happen if they came into contact with Thanos early? What if Thanos figured out their plans? He didn’t want to have to see everyone die again, and this time, instead of it being a group effort, Peter was all alone. He had the information, and he was the only one that knew what was going to happen. 

“_What if somebody had died today? Different story, right? Because that’s on you._” Tony’s words rang through his head as clear as glass, causing Peter to swallow harshly. He was right. This time, it was on him. 

And he’d be damned if he let Thanos win again. 

A loud slam broke the teen out of his thoughts and he jolted in surprise as the suddenness of the noise. Both Natasha and Wanda seemed to perk up at this as well, and the sound of many footsteps soon followed. 

It was a surreal experience to be in the same room as the Avengers (_minus Vision_, he noted). Aside from the Accords drama, they were still his heroes, and although this wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, it was quite different when all of their eyes were glued on him. A chill went down Peter’s spine as his eyes darted between the numerous sets of eyes in front of him. Each of them had a trained stare that bore into him, searching for any semblance of something as they studied at him. He’d never felt more unqualified than he did in that moment. They were all trained warriors, heroes that had been through thick and thin and fought countless battles while holding the weight of the world on their shoulders and he was just Peter, a kid. He felt like he’d just caught the attention of a beast ten times larger than him by tempting a beast ten times larger than that, while he was just a few inches tall. 

As the heroes continued to march into the room, Peter’s eyes were almost immediately directed towards Tony, whom walked into the room last, and his breath hitched audibly as he met the man’s steely gaze. There was no trace of the familiar parental warmth that was present in his mentor’s eyes whenever they crossed paths, and no glint of familiarity that he desperately searched for. Tony - this Tony didn’t know who he was, and was treating him like a stranger. Peter worked to hide the tears that threatened to fill his eyes, unable to repress the sting of betrayal that dug into his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. 

That horrible, ugly feeling only grew as he continued to stare in his mentor’s - the man’s eyes, however unreasonable and illogical it may have been, and Peter quickly turned away so the hero wouldn’t notice his turmoil. He knew when he went back that Tony wasn’t going to recognize him, but he wasn’t prepared for how bad it was going to hurt. Tony had become such a big part of his life in the past few years, and he filled holes the teen didn’t even realize were empty. Tony was much more than a mentor to him, and he had been for a very long time. It wasn’t exactly a secret either, everyone around them knew it (and teased them for it relentlessly), even though both of them were too stubborn to say otherwise. Now, though, he wished more than anything that he’d said something while he still could, because anything was better than this, than looking in his eyes and seeing nothing. 

With a small shuddering breath, Peter picked his eyes up again, wincing slightly when he saw the concerned glances of Natasha and Steve. They had quite clearly picked up on his emotions, and he was pretty sure the rest had as well, but they weren’t showing it. None of them seem to even thinking about speaking about it, and for that he was grateful, but it still didn’t shake that feeling of loss that settled in his stomach. 

The Tony he knew was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Peter shook his head slightly as the thought crossed his mind, and he quickly replaced the loss in his eyes with determination. _I can’t think about this now_, he thought, starting to tug at the cuffs around his wrists. _Mr. Stark sent me here with a purpose, and I’m going to fulfill it._

Noticing him tug at the metal, Steve started to walk over to him, moving to crouch down to the level of the chair. “Here, let me help you with that,” the soldier offered, starting to reach for the cuffs. 

“No, I got it,” Peter said quickly, shaking his head before adding, “Thanks for the offer though.” 

Smiling at the soldier, Peter gave the cuffs one last tug before snapping the chains connected to the chair. He exhaled a breath of relief as he brought his hands in front of him, making quick work of the metal remaining around his wrists before placing its remains on the floor. The spiderling shifted slightly in his chair before rubbing his wrists, pausing when he noticed the surprised gazes of the Avengers. 

“Is me being enhanced really such a surprise?” The teen asked, still tense and cheeks instinctively flushing from the attention. “Two of you are already, and you work with a literal god.” 

“But you’re a _kid_,” Clint responded with wide eyes, causing Peter to roll his eyes. 

“You saw it when I fought you, your input doesn’t count,” he muttered, earning a snicker from Sam and squawk of surprise from the archer. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the ability to defy gravity equivocated to super strength,” the man retorted. 

“Children, please,” Sam interrupted, holding out his hands as he looked at the two, a playful glint in his eyes. “This is serious business.” 

“Sorry, _dad_,” the archer smirked, and he glanced over at Peter, shooting him a small wink. The teen couldn’t repress the soft giggle that left his lips at the gesture, and he smiled cheekily, causing the man’s expression to brighten. 

“So, what are we doing here exactly?” Tony broke in, and Peter’s expression fell at the sound of his voice, heart dropping into his stomach. 

“Waiting for the kid to explain what’s going on,” Natasha responded, now leaning against a wall off to the side with her arms crossed. 

The teen blinked, flushing lightly in embarrassment and stammering, “O-Oh! Right. Sorry.” 

Hearing no response to his words, Peter nervously shifted in his seat, readying himself to speak. _Here goes nothing_, he thought with a shaky exhale. 

“So, um,” he began, “in the future there’s another alien attack led by this guy named Thanos. His goal is - sorry, was to gather all of the infinity stones and we, the Avengers, fought him.” Some of the Avengers nodded as he spoke, each of them hanging on to every bit and piece of information he gave them. Peter paused, throat becoming dry as he slowly started to remember the _dust, panic, panic,_ panic - on Titan as he watched the guardians’ limbs and his own limbs disappear in front of him. 

“We lost,” the teen choked out, and the heroes tensed around him. “Really badly.” 

“Just how badly?” Steve tentatively asked after a few moments of silence, while the Avengers absorbed the information. 

“Half the universe died.” 

A jolt of shock quickly passed through the room as everyone’s demeanor shifted, expressions morphing into various forms of horror. Peter gave a grimace in sympathy before continuing, “I was sent back out of necessity, because there’s really no other option than to do it again.” 

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t know if I trust this,” Sam spoke after a few moments, the group’s attention shifting towards him. “I mean, he’s a kid, and they not only have wild imagination, but they’re very impressionable. Someone could’ve put this in his head.” The rest seemed to consider this, and Peter felt his face begin to blanche, his gut churning uncomfortably. Wanda took a step forward, her expression nearing anger, her eyes narrowed at Sam. 

“It’s the truth, Sam. I saw it in his memories,” she responded, her tone a sharp bite. Sam’s eyes widened at the edge in her voice, and the witch took a moment to regain her composure, continuing a bit softer, “I saw those people die.” 

“Wanda…” Clint muttered quietly. 

“I understand and I truly do sympathize, but I have to agree with Sam on this one,” Steve said, glancing briefly at the mentioned hero before looking at Wanda. “Our original thought on him was ex-HYDRA, correct? We know they’re capable of heavy manipulation, and I wouldn’t put it past them to use a kid. Look at what they did to Bucky.” 

"I'm not!” Peter exclaimed, eyes wide with desperation. “I swear, I…Mr. Stark, your time machine. The one you built with Bruce? That’s what I used to get here.” 

Tony eyes widened with surprise, and he blinked, mouth opening and closing once before he settled on what he was going to say. “I have to admit, I’m genuinely shocked that you knew about that.” 

“Wait, you built a time machine and you didn’t tell us?” Clint exclaimed. “_Bruce_ didn’t tell us?!” 

“It’s called Protocol: MARIA,” Peter said to the archer. “It’s meant to be used as a last resort, and Mr. Stark said he kept it under wraps mainly because it was pretty unstable, and he didn’t finish it until recently. Er, well, he won’t finish it for a few years.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s all fine and dandy but HYDRA didn’t have a tough time figuring out info about Ultron. If anything, they were more informed than we were,” Tony stated, narrowing his eyes at Wanda slightly and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Even though I did keep it under wraps, it was in the system before Ultron. Who knows what he could’ve exposed behind our backs.” 

Peter bit his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to figure out what he was going to say next. He knew he was losing them fast, so whatever he decided to say next had to seal the deal. Wracking his brain, he tried to think of something - _anything_ that could convince the heroes that he was telling nothing but the truth. 

Choosing his words very carefully, Peter said softly, "I know what you saw in the wormhole, Mr. Stark." The Avengers almost immediately snapped to attention as soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw his mentor grow visibly tense in front of him. He swallowed, breaths trembling. "And we tried to beat it, sir, we really, _really_ did, but we ran out of moves." 

Peter met Tony's gaze. 

“Now all we have left on the board is our king." 

The room fell into a silence as Peter continued to look his mentor in the eye. He knew Tony could tell he was telling the truth by the haunted, distant look in the man’s eyes, and because he knew he bore the same look in his own. The atmosphere in the room thickened as each of the Avengers realized that Tony, the same stubborn man who questioned the existence of magic even though he had seen it in front of his eyes, the same man who still continued to believe in atheism even though one of his coworkers was a god, and the same man who fully questioned the truth in the teen’s words just a moment earlier, was now wholeheartedly in belief of a child. Clint let out a heavy sigh, bringing a hand up to massage his temples. 

“I’m going to need a drink.” 

**\---**

“You need to rest - “ 

_One more breath._

“No.” 

“It’s been hours, Stark, your body needs rest.” 

_One more hour._

“I said no! Damnit, Nebula, give me the wrench!” 

“I may not have known your child, but he would’ve wanted you to take care of yourself. Think of Peter - ” 

_One more bolt._

“_You don’t know me!_ You didn’t know him, and you don’t know me, so stop pretending like you do!” 

_One more nail._

“...Stark - ” 

_One more day._

“Just give me the wrench.” 

_For Peter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now things are getting interesting hehe
> 
> how was your guys' halloween btw? i hope you guys had a great time
> 
> i just stayed home and watched movies lol, and a really bad storm hit MD and it almost spawned a tornado so that was fun :) i swear there have been more tornado warnings in the past year than actual storms
> 
> let me know what y'all thought of this chapter in the comments! i did a lot of work on it so i hope it's an improvement haha
> 
> see you guys next time!

**Author's Note:**

> ladies, gents, and nonbinary friends, it is HERE!
> 
> hope y'all are ready for this because it's about to be wild-ass ride
> 
> are you excited? i certainly am
> 
> in the words of a wise man: "drop your socks and grab your crocs, we're about to get wet on this ride"


End file.
